


"Waiting"

by AloryShannon



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: F/M, Fluff but not fluff, Gen, Oneshot, friendship with benefits fic, not exactly romance, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 03:33:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AloryShannon/pseuds/AloryShannon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were childhood friends and she understands him better than most—better than anyone, probably, but that doesn’t justify the waiting.  Because as much as she cares for their comrades, and as obvious as she is about that care, she hasn’t made a habit of staying up waiting for everyone who goes out on a mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Waiting"

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This was actually originally written a couple years ago for a request on the DGM Kinkmeme on LJ, but since that's been deleted, I thought I'd put this up here. The original prompt was: _"Kanda teases Linali after figuring out her secret crush on him. Linali gets embarrassed. Kanda's not really interested in her, but decides to take advantage of the situation anyway."_
> 
> This came out a little different, but hopefully the OP still liked it.

It’s late at night, and the rain is beating on the tall glass windows of their new Headquarters, as it does more often than not.  Kanda doesn’t care about the miserable weather--doesn’t care about anything that doesn’t have a direct effect on whatever mission he’s been given--and the rain never bothers him.  It’s just another something that _is,_ and any physical discomfort it caused wasn’t even worth being annoyed over most of the time.  
  
Filling out his report had taken long enough that he’s nearly dry by now, though his boots still squeak as he makes his way down the cold stone hallways.  He happens to glance to the side as he passes the open library door, and what his eyes settle on brings him to an abrupt stop.  Then he huffs out an aggravated sigh and changes directions, threading his way through tables and stacks of books to the couch, and the small sleeping form sprawled on it.  
  
His expression shifts into a scowl, because the rooms are huge and there’s a chill in them even during the day and if she caught a cold her brother would try to kill them all for letting her sleep out in the open like this.  Not to mention how much leg she’s showing, what with that short skirt and the way she’s stretched out, and in a public place…  
  
He takes half a second to stop and think, wondering who she was waiting for, who else had a mission tonight--but no, it was only him, the others were here or else wouldn’t be back for another week at least--and then he wonders why.  
  
 _Why._   That one-word question that’s far too heavy for its size and brevity seems to come up a lot when Lenalee is concerned, though he never dwells on either the question or all the possible answers.  It has no bearing on anything important, nothing related to his training or to killing akuma or to finally ending this godforsaken war; nothing that really _matters,_ nothing that he cares about.  
  
But it’s Lenalee, and he’s known her long enough to know that _she_ cares about everything.   Whatever her reason, whatever the answer he hasn’t bothered to figure out may be, whatever the _why,_ the reason she’s waiting for him is important to her.  Which means _he’s_ important to her, which really only brings up another _why._  
  
They were childhood friends, of course, and she understands him better than most—better than anyone, probably, but that doesn’t justify the waiting.  
  
He’s an Exorcist, just like her, but they’re not the same.  She’s fully human and he’s--he’s a _thing,_ a twisted experiment gone horrifyingly right, and he wishes she weren’t so obvious about how much she cares for him, even though the innermost parts of his heart (does he even _have_ one of those, really?) respect and value her existence all the more because of it.  
  
She could do better.  She’ll have to.  
  
And yet, as much as she cares for their comrades, and as obvious as she is about that care, she hasn’t made a habit of staying up waiting for _everyone_ who goes out on a mission.  
  
 _...I’ll be waiting...  
  
_ Waiting and love are tied together in memories rich with light and flowers and endlessly blue cloud-swept skies, and in Kanda’s mind, where there’s one, there’s often the other.  
  
 _Love?  What’s that?  
  
_ Nine years later, and he still doesn’t know.  Fragmented pieces of memories from a past life that doesn’t seem entirely his own are all that he has to tell him anything about it: someone smiling, holding out a hand and a promise of faithfulness, a promise of _forever._  
  
The tea in the cup sitting on the table beside Lenalee’s couch is long-cold, the book she’d been reading is lying face down and open on the floor beneath her relaxed hand, and it’s obvious she’s been there for some time.  
  
 _Waiting._   It seemed like she was always there at Headquarters, always waiting for him to get back from his latest mission, always present to greet him with a warm smile and a _welcome home._  
  
Looking down at her now, he wonders if whatever this strange emotion he’s feeling is _love._   He wonders if _love_ is really why she waits for him—but then, he also thinks it must be, because what other reason could she have?  
  
Still, there’s only one way to know…and Kanda, straightforward and no-nonsense as always, decides that now is as good a time as any to ask.  So he crouches before the couch, giving her shoulder a firm, but far from violent, shake.  
  
Lenalee stirs restlessly at his touch, giving a little sigh and a softly sleepy groan as she blinks up at him, her eyes owlish and still half-lidded.  
  
But Kanda has never been particularly patient, or the type to equivocate or sugarcoat, so he cuts right to the chase.  “You.  How long have you loved me?”  
  
Still half-asleep and quite possibly thinking she’s still dreaming, she gives him a drowsy smile as she says, “Since we were kids.  It’s comfortable being around you…and you looked out for me when Komui was too tied up with work.  Kept Leverrier away…”  As she says that last, she comes awake completely, and on realising what she’s said, she sits up quickly, flushed, embarrassed, and obviously backtracking.  “I-I mean—of course I love you!  You’re a good friend, Kanda!”  
  
Kanda’s frown only deepens at that--he hates it when people second-guess themselves or won’t admit what’s really going on in their heads--and his response is blunt as usual.  “What’s the point of hiding how you really feel about someone?  If you do that, nothing will ever happen.”  
  
Lenalee’s eyes widen, then drop to her hands, folded in her lap.  “…Sometimes when people don’t feel the same way about each other, it can ruin things between them.”  Her cheeks still burning, she smiles again, that familiar warm smile.  “And I’m happy--so happy--just to be a part of the world that I have now.  I couldn’t stand to lose any of you…especially if it was just because of something so silly and selfish—”  
  
“That _is_ pretty selfish,” Kanda cuts in to deadpan, rolling his eyes a little.  Honestly, why does everyone around him always act like it’s some horrible, unforgiveable sin to be even a little bit selfish?  
  
Lenalee gapes at him comically, looking close to (slightly angry) tears but startled at the same time: his sarcasm had been too obvious for it to pass unnoticed.  (If Lavi had been there, the Junior Bookman’s visible eye would’ve been saucer-sized as he exclaimed, _Yuu, did you just try t’make a joke?  I didn’t know ya had a sense of humour, boss!  But uh-oh, looks like your teasin’ is gonna make Lenalee cry!_  
  
Kanda looks at her, his expression hard and unreadable as he studies the smooth curve of her cheek, the brightness of her eyes, her strong chin and shapely lips, the way her hair frames her delicately-boned face--and though he knows somewhere in his mind that she’s beautiful, he doesn’t feel that knowledge tightening his chest like he thinks it should.  But again, there’s only one way to be sure, so without a thought, without a word, he leans in to press his mouth against hers.  
  
He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but the action seems simple enough, and though perhaps it ends up being a bit rough, it’s not at all a bad kiss, especially for a first attempt.  
  
He liked it, he knows that much as he pulls away, sits back on his heels, and while he’s not at all sure that what he’s feeling right now is _love,_ he’s _very_ sure that he wants to kiss her again.  Judging by her expression, the heat on her face, the way her eyes are half-lidded and lingering so obviously on his mouth, she wants him to kiss her again, too.  
  
So he does, more slowly this time, and while it isn’t quite tender, it _is_ gentle, cautious, and more than a little curious, an exploration this time rather than a forceful conquest.  Her lips move against his, tentative at first but quickly gaining confidence, taking the lead and leaving him to imitate the tilt of her head or the brief brush of teeth on a lower lip.  His hand has just clamped around her elbow to pull her closer when the sound of approaching footsteps echoes down the hallway; they separate with a guilty jerk, both thinking of Komui with varying levels of annoyance and uneasiness.  Kanda stands, deciding that he’s had enough of whatever this is for the night, and starts to turn away without even a word of farewell.  
  
“Kanda!  We’re both going the same way, right?  Let’s walk together,” Lenalee says before he can leave, bouncing to her feet and looking up at him with a hopeful smile.  
  
Kanda snorts, as if she’s asked for the moon or the stars or something else equally impractical and impossible and irritating, but he doesn’t say no, and when she starts walking, he matches his pace to hers.  She doesn’t speak, save to ask about his mission, and doesn’t press when he answers in monosyllables.  She knows him, knows how rare it is to get regular, almost-patient responses out of him, and she’s content with getting any sort of answer at all.  
  
The new HQ is somewhat smaller than the last place, so they reach her room before long.  Lenalee stops outside her door; Kanda doesn’t pause, doesn’t even glance back, though he’s only taken two steps before she catches at his sleeve.  
  
He doesn’t like to be touched, she’s well aware of that, and usually she’s so careful to respect his preferences that on those rare occasions when she reaches for him anyway, he doesn’t pull away.  Instead he stops, turning back to look at her expectantly, his face impassive but not irritated.  
  
“…Thank you for walking with me, Kanda…” she says after an instant’s hesitation, though it’s not what she really seems to want to say.  
  
The return of that uncertainty is enough to make him scowl and turn his head sharply to the side.  “What are you thanking me for?  This is the way to my room, I have to walk this way.”  
  
She smiles again at that, giving the lightest of chuckles, as if his words had contained some sort of secret joke that only she could understand.  Kanda just looks at her obliquely, because she’s always acted like this--always seen something more beneath his harsh words and abrupt mannerisms, though sometimes even he wasn’t quite sure what that _something more_ was.  
  
She tugs on his sleeve again, a little harder this time, and he turns his face back toward her, his lips pursed to issue an irritable _what?_ when he finds her mouth on his again, light at first but gaining force and confidence as that heat from before starts to build between them once more.  
  
Before they know it, they’re in her room, the door shut and locked behind them and the lights still off as they both fumble a little in the dark, both shedding red-trimmed jackets but stopping there, at least for now.  Strange and enjoyable as this is proving to be, Kanda doesn’t want to _hurt_ her somehow, and he doesn’t intend to let things go much farther.  
  
But once he’s got her pinned to the bed beneath him, his mouth tracing her jaw, the elegant curve of her neck, the gentle swells of her breasts, he can’t seem to stop, and she doesn’t want him to; so even though he knows her _why_ is different than his, that doesn’t keep his hand from finding its way beneath her skirt.  The way she gasps against his shoulder when he jerks her underwear aside to sink two fingers into her only pushes him that much further from his original intentions, and when she nips at his collarbone, leaving toothmarks and love-bites that all disappear within moments, he forgets he ever had any intentions other than the ones filling his mind now.  
  
It’s curious how she’s such a meld of hard and soft—graceful curves, firm but supple thighs, smooth skin stretched over rigid bones with little extra flesh on them, her hipbones jutting out starkly enough to make almost-painful contact with his own as he moves his hand away and settles his body between her legs instead.  And her eyes—tender but strong, determined but yielding, not quite fearful but not wholly brave either when faced with something so new and unknown.  He knows that there is little, if any, softness to him: he’s all muscle and bone, hard planes and sharp edges and implacable expressions.  
  
But she finds the one delicate part of him as if drawn by a magnet.  Her hands reach up and he doesn’t stop her, letting her free his hair to cascade around their faces and over her chest and shoulders; he draws back, bowing his head a bit, his eyes falling halfway closed as she runs her fingers through it, smoothing it back before burying her hands in dark, silky locks even longer than her own had once been.  The previous urgency fades somewhat as she strokes his head, her fingernails lightly running along his scalp, and Kanda lets his eyes fall the rest of the way closed, breathing out a shallow sigh as Lenalee cups his face in her hands and places a soft kiss in the center of his forehead.  
  
It’s so tender, he’d almost feel guilty if she hadn’t followed it with a quiet murmur of, “…All right then…I guess I’m going to be a little selfish now.”  Her hands slip down from his face to his chest, deft fingers dancing down the buttons of his shirt, pushing it back off his shoulders a moment later; at the same time, Kanda’s hand finds its way back between her legs, making her gasp and jerk him down for another messy, heated kiss.  
  
 _Please_ she breathes into his mouth in between sucking on his bottom lip and feeling him kiss her breathless.  
  
In reply, he all but tears her underwear off, eliciting a quiet squeak of surprise at the sound of ripping fabric, but Lenalee doesn’t protest, lifting her legs to help him along as her fingers fumble with his belt and the buttons of his pants.  
  
Kanda doesn’t bother with any more foreplay--she’s already wet anyway, and he’s more than ready himself, so what would be the point?--bracing himself over her briefly, one hand between them, before angling his hips just so and pressing himself inside her; she’s already shaking, her breath coming in shallow, panted gasps, by the time he’s halfway there.  He encounters some resistance, but knows there’s nothing for it save a clenched jaw and a solid thrust that makes Lenalee drop her head back and give a wordless cry, her trembling intensifying, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her legs intertwining themselves around his.  
  
Gritting his teeth against the urge to move, _now,_ hard and fast, he pauses, giving her some time to adjust, forcing his mind elsewhere for the moment.  Again her hands find their way into his hair, her fingers lacing tightly together across the back of his neck as she shifts beneath him, biting her lip as she forces herself to relax.  Kanda feels a moment of something like panic when he catches the sparkle of tears on her cheeks, the smile she’s giving him all that keeps him from pulling out and pulling away and forgetting this ever happened.  It’s a bit strained, and there’s some discomfort edging it too, but the happiness there on her face is unmistakable, even seen through his dark, cynical eyes.  
  
“…I’m…I’m _really_ a part of your world now, aren’t I?” she says, a just-noticeable waver in her voice.  “Oh…Kanda, I’m so happy…”  
  
Kanda finds he can’t even begin to know what to say in response, but she doesn’t seem to expect him to say anything, because she leans up to press her mouth against his, softly, shakily.  This time, she tastes of salt--tears--and it gives the kiss a bitter tang that Kanda finds he doesn’t particularly like.  
  
But then she shifts again and his resolve finally gives way, her hands clenching into fists, twisting into the soft hair at the nape of his neck as he starts to move over her, against her.  She gasps with almost every movement, her hot, quick breaths and still half-pained moans mingling with his own, along with her panted whispers of _faster, faster, harder, oh God, Kanda, yes._  The words spill over his skin, warm and wet and breathless as they brush against his neck and shoulder before they reach his ear, and for once Kanda finds that he doesn’t mind listening to someone talk.  It makes him lose control in an entirely new but still very physical way, thrusting into her hard enough to make the headboard hit the wall and leave shallow scuffs on the stone.  And almost before he knows it, he can’t stand it anymore, and he has to let go, choking on an explicative as he comes, twitching and jerking and grinding over her, against her, inside her.  
  
Pushing away the odd sort of drowsiness abruptly threatening to overtake him, Kanda realises that Lenalee still feels taut as a bowstring beneath him, quivering and on the edge, almost there but not quite.  He doesn’t really know how he knows to do any of this--he’s never done this before, never had the patience, the interest to bother, especially when he was already looking for someone--but between the innate, instinctive knowledge of his body and the half-cloudy rememberings of his brain, Kanda manages to put things together fairly well.  He doesn’t pull out (with the way she’s still tightening around him, he can feel himself getting hard again, and fast), instead reaching between them, finding that sensitive little nub right above where they’re joined together.  It’s like flipping a switch, the way she shudders and writhes beneath him--then suddenly he’s pulling away, pulling out, but only long enough for him to alter their position, her legs, those beautiful, slim, shapely legs thrown up over his shoulders as he buries himself inside her again.  
  
 _Come on,_ he grits out as he pounds into her, taking her hard and fast; and this time, in no time, she’s there, clawing at the sheets and trembling uncontrollably and crying out his name just a little too loud as she convulses around him.  That’s all it takes for Kanda to lose it again himself, with a strangled-sounding moan rather than a curse this time.  
  
He’s probably not too tired to go again, though his arms are trembling visibly, but Lenalee is looking exhausted, struggling to catch her breath, and they’re both sticky and dripping with sweat, so this time he pulls out and moves away, dropping onto his back beside her with a low, throaty groan.  Lenalee smiles as she sidles up to him, resting her head over the tattoo on his chest and breathing out a contented sigh.  Kanda stiffens, then relaxes and suffers the contact because it’s _Lenalee_ and it really isn’t at all unpleasant anyway.  
  
Her face is serene, and she drops off to sleep almost immediately, though not without murmuring a sleepy _I love you_ into his shoulder.  Kanda looks at her consideringly, then stares at the ceiling for an indeterminable amount of time before sleep finds him, still lost in thought.  
  
Lenalee doesn’t seem to regret it at all, what they’ve just done, so Kanda decides that he doesn’t either, even if he still doesn’t feel any closer to understanding what _love_ really is.


End file.
